


Nothing Special (Supernatural - Crowstiel)

by SingingFlames



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gift Giving, M/M, crowstiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:35:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8881597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingingFlames/pseuds/SingingFlames
Summary: Demons don’t celebrate Christmas, but angels do.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 750+  
> Warnings: Crowstiel (M/M relationship - Don’t like, please don’t read)  
> A/N: Christmas/holiday Crowstiel story! I’ve always liked writing characters reactions to various holidays and this just came to me.

“What’s that, love?” Crowley asked, coming up behind Castiel. He slipped his arms around the angel’s waist. With a dip of his chin, he nodded at a slender box resting on the table. It was a dark gray, almost black, and about as wide and long as a couple of his fingers.

Castiel glanced over his shoulder. “It’s a gift.”

“Oh? Which lunk gets it? Moose or Squirrel?” He brushed his lips against Castiel’s neck as he spoke, delighting in the goosebumps that rose in response.

“Uh, neither.” 

Crowley furrowed his brows, pulling back an inch. The bird’s list of acquaintances was fairly short, after all. Not like he knew that many people. “Their mum?”

“No.” Castiel shifted his gaze to the far wall. Crowley let his arms fall, stepping around the angel.

“That,” Crowley jabbed a finger at the gift, “had best not be for me.”

Castiel stared at the box, not speaking.

“Moron.” Crowley spun about. Of all the stupid, emotional _human_ things that wanker could do. Striding away, Crowley held up a finger. “We talked about this. I was very clear. What part of ‘I don’t do holidays. I don’t want presents,’ confused you?”

“I just saw it and thought of you. Look, I didn’t even wrap it. So, it’s not really a present.” Castiel sighed.

“Oh no, of course it isn’t.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “An angel gives me something out of the blue a few days before Christmas. Nope, definitely not a gift.”

“Do you have to be so difficult? What’s wrong with Christmas?”

Was he serious? Crowley shook his head. “You do know Christmas’ origins, yes? All holy and heavenly and that? Right up your dad's alley.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well,” Crowley spoke slow, as if to a dim child, “I'm from downstairs, someplace that's not so cozy with Heaven. As a general rule, demons steer clear of anything pertaining to, or related to, your former place of residence, unless they're smashing it into tiny pieces.” 

“What about us? You don't ‘steer clear’ of me.”

“Exception that proves the rule.” At Castiel's sigh, Crowley shrugged. “I don't do Christmas, pigeon.”

Castiel scooped up the tiny package, turning it over in his hands. “It doesn’t have to be for the holiday. It can be a late birthday gift. Or early. Whichever applies.”

Crowley grimaced. As if he knew or cared when his birthday was. Rowena hadn’t been very forthcoming with, or even interested in, it when he’d still been in her care as a child and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask her about it now. 

Presents, birthdays, it was all pointless. Worthless. He’d gone through centuries and had never needed or wanted a gift. Certainly, no one had ever given him one. Birthdays, holidays, all of it was sappy human rubbish. 

He met the angel’s earnest eyes. “Sorry, mate. Presents just aren’t ‘me’. Give that to one of the boys. They’re into that…,” Crowley waved a hand in vague circle, searching for an inoffensive term, “sentimental stuff.”

“This reminded me of you, not them.” Castiel tightened his lips, tossing the box on the table. “It’s nothing special. You probably wouldn’t like it anyway.” The angel looked away, head down.

Bloody hell. Crowley ran a hand over his face. He reached out, fingers brushing over the slim package. Damn, moronic feelings.

“Fine, whatever. It won’t be for Christmas or anything,” Crowley said, holding his arms wide in defeat. “Just nothing special.”

Aware of Castiel’s gaze on him, he lifted the present’s lid. A glint of silver greeted him. 

“Love, what is… Is that a skull?” Crowley tilted his head in confusion. A tiny metal skull, attached to a short chain, lay nestled inside the box.

“It’s a tie tack.” At the demon’s blank look, Castiel continued, “You always wear suits. Black ones. Those never change. But your ties do. I figured they were important to you, since you take the time to switch them. You might like something to add to them.” Castiel shrugged. “And the skull just seemed to suit you.”

Crowley stared at the tie tack. The ties were a nice fashion accessory, one he’d switch out depending on mood, situation, location and a handful of other considerations. He’d had no idea anyone had noticed. “You… thought of me?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t…” Crowley cleared his suddenly-tight throat. “No one’s ever given me anything.” He lifted the tie tack, letting the chain dangle and catch the light. “I… Thank you.”

“Happy ‘nothing special’ day.”


End file.
